


Lovely Day

by imyourplusone



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Lizzington - Freeform, One Shot, once upon a rainy DC fall, two kids found a few lovely days to share
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:50:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21837754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imyourplusone/pseuds/imyourplusone
Summary: The howling wind hitting him full force makes less of an impact than her hooded expression. He waits a moment and sees it soften, knowing that is the one he’ll carry with him until they meet again.
Relationships: Elizabeth Keen & Raymond Reddington, Elizabeth Keen/Raymond Reddington
Comments: 15
Kudos: 66





	Lovely Day

**Author's Note:**

> I recently heard one of my favorite duos, Ella and Louis, doing their version of _Isn’t It a Lovely Day_ and it reminded me of my other favorite duo. Thought it would do them good to get caught in the rain and see what happens.
> 
> Thanks for reading.

_The turn in the weather  
_ _Will keep us together  
_ _So I can honestly say  
_ _That as far as I’m concerned, it’s a lovely day_

* * *

She’s been caught in the rain.

There is no other reason for her to still be here, long after she left his hotel suite and their heated words. Another case solved, when there should be some sense of satisfaction, but it is too fleeting. Much too elusive in this strange in-between they often inhabit, where the rules of the bureau don’t factor in and his manipulation of the task force causes her anger to flare.

It has been many days and many cases since she’s found humor in it.

“Mr. Rathers, is there anything you need?”

He glances over to the concierge at his station in the lobby then back through the glass leading to the sidewalk where she stands near the deluge, preferring to remain by the storm rather than return to the one of their own making.

“Mr. Rathers?”

“Yes, there is something I need,” he muses, still watching her watch the rain.

But it seems quite out of reach.

_She_ is out of reach.

He’s glad Dembe isn’t here to see his uncertainty, and can already envision the knowing smile that would accompany the certainty that the Concierge of Crime has been brought to a halt by the prospect of seeing the disapproval in a certain pair of beautiful eyes.

“Unfortunately, there is nothing you can do, Frederick.”

“If you say so, Sir.”

Raymond takes a step or two toward the exit before hesitating and turning back. “On second thought, perhaps there is one thing.”

The awning of the small boutique hotel is no match for the rain being driven sideways by the wind. It is so loud in the small alcove where Lizzy and the doorman have taken shelter that neither notice the door opening and Raymond stepping out to join them.

“What’s that saying about the rain and cats and dogs?”

The doorman snaps to attention, waiting to be of service, while Liz replies rather blandly over her shoulder, “You mean _it’s raining cats and dogs_?”

“That’s the one.”

He’d love to make her smile, just once, for old time’s sake. When she gives him a quick roll of her eyes, he can only sigh. A shake of his head and a pat on the shoulder for the doorman gives him silent permission to slouch once more against the wall. That leaves Lizzy’s side of the alcove and, taking a breath, he moves a bit closer.

“Dembe and I would be happy to drop you anywhere you needed or—”

“I’m parked a few blocks away.”

“Right.”

“You could have told me.”

To which he makes no reply. She said as much in his suite when the connection was finally made, the true reason behind his latest name for the list. Nothing too nefarious which he made a good faith effort to point out, but it only stirred the fire that much more. There are moments like these, few though they may be, when the words simply won’t come. Even knowing she hates his silences, he has never been able to explain it to her, how she renders him speechless at times.

“I understand why you wouldn’t tell Cooper or Ressler, but not me. Although I suppose we’re all the same to you.”

“Elizabeth, I assure you, in no way do I view you the same as Harold or Donald.”

He’d swear it was there, the merest hint of something other than annoyance, but she is still in profile, looking determinedly at the tumultuous sky.

“And it’s not like I don’t already know the blacklisters you give us will somehow benefit your empire.”

“ _Empire_ might be stretching it a bit.”

She really is trying not to smile and suddenly the pressure in the atmosphere seems to lessen. The wind takes that moment to prove him wrong and whips into the alcove making all three take a step back as the mist sprays their faces.

He swears he could hear a pin drop.

Or her soft intake of breath as she finally turns to face him.

“You don’t always have to push me away.”

The last thing he wants to do, of course, and here they are again with the unsaid lingering between them like the far off flash of lightning, the seconds drawing out until the rumble of thunder catches up.

“I could say the same.”

She seems as surprised to hear it as he is to have said it and both flinch as another flash illuminates the darkened sky.

“Mr. Rathers, your car has arrived.”

“Who are you kidding,” she mutters, watching the doorman walk out bravely under the awning, ready to open the door of the Mercedes. “They all know exactly who you are, don’t they?”

“Not even close.” He can’t help smiling, not missing the reluctant amusement in her voice. “It’s a lovely day. We should try to make the best of it.”

He holds out the umbrella which she takes automatically and steps toward the car only to stop a moment later when her voice calls out to him.

“Did you steal this for me?”

“Now why on earth would you—”

“Think that? Because I’ve never seen you with one.”

Because there is little that escapes her notice, even the smallest of details. He should have known. “I borrowed it from the concierge. He won’t be expecting it back, but if you’re in the neighborhood, feel free to drop it off.”

The howling wind hitting him full force makes less of an impact than her hooded expression. He waits a moment and sees it soften, knowing that is the one he’ll carry with him until they meet again.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Elizabeth.”

With a tip of his fedora, he enters the car and it merges slowly into traffic, disappearing into the torrent. Glancing back as they round the corner, he would swear she is still there, staring thoughtfully at the umbrella in her hand.

* * *

She’d know that silhouette anywhere. The collar pulled up high and the fedora tilted low, shielding all but a small portion of his profile. Like a detective from a bygone era, hidden in the shadows, looking for his mark instead of a criminal mastermind that inadvertently got caught in the rain.

With a smile and shake of her head, she stops to watch him from the warmth of the lobby of her apartment building as he lingers just beyond the door. Looking past to the cars creeping by, she can only surmise that Dembe is somewhere stuck in traffic.

For some reason she can’t explain, she doesn’t want the spell broken, doesn’t want Dembe to arrive just yet. There’s a funny little flutter in her belly that is annoyingly familiar, but not unpleasant, and after a minute, she goes to join the source of it.

“You need a lift?” she asks casually when she steps next to him.

“I thank you, but Dembe will be here shortly. He’s been on the search for a certain shade of amber thread and apparently there is a craft store nearby.”

“Thread?”

“He’s taken up needlepoint as a stress reducer.”

She has learned long ago not to be surprised with what Reddington and Dembe get a mind to do and she hesitates only a second before asking, “And how is that working out?”

“I suppose that depends on whether you ask him or I.”

“I’m asking you.”

“Right now, I’d say it’s working out splendidly, Elizabeth.”

Her eyes narrow as the flutter returns and she attempts to decide if he is serious or teasing her. A bit of both, it seems, when she catches that certain glint in his eye.

“What I’m really wondering is why you didn’t come back up to my apartment to wait or did you somehow know I’d have a few questions about this blacklister of yours.”

“The thought never…”

But he won’t lie to her. Not ever. Not even for something like this. Something that unexpectedly amuses her to no end and she smiles.

“What was that?”

“I didn’t want to disturb you any longer than necessary.”

“You weren’t and had you stayed, you could have had tea instead of this cold rain in your face.”

“I’ll remember that for the next downpour.”

“You do that.” She returns his smile and nudges him with her shoulder for no other reason than to make him chuckle. Which he does.

“We must seem like pieces in a chess match you’re playing in your head.”

“Why do you say that?”

For once she can make no complaint. For once he did exactly as she asked, gave her the case as well as all the underlying plans that usually accompanies the name for the list. She sat there in stunned silence as he went through all the twists and turns that would eventually lead the task force to a successful closure and he a new “business” opportunity. Nothing too overly criminal and he must play the game, after all. How else would he be able to supply the next name and the one after that.

By the time her shock wore off, he was rising and bidding her a hasty good morning. She’d had no opportunity to say anything except goodbye as he breezed out. There was no denying the regret at his departure and to wonder how irritatingly accurate he would be at the end.

“Because you have it all figured out as you always do.”

“Now where would the fun be in that? In the spirit of cooperation I have told you everything I know and hope to bring about. It is the unexpected, however, that keeps my interest.”

With the way he is looking at her from under the brim of that damn hat, half in shadow, she can’t tell if they are still talking about the case or something else entirely. Some intriguing possibility that is there just at the fringes and going near it causes the warmth to spread through her body.

She glances at the sheets of rain and the sea of umbrellas hurrying past, hears the car horns honking as the city is blown into disarray. And none of it matters. It suddenly feels just right.

“Then I suppose we’ll have to see what happens.”

“Indeed,” he murmurs, thoughtfully. tilting his head as he studies her.

“I have to brief the task force.” She says it almost to herself, needing a reminder that her fellow agents are gathering as she is dawdling on a rain swept street.

“I know.”

“Here, take this,” she goes on quickly, handing him her travel mug. “You need something to keep you warm until Dembe gets here.”

“I couldn’t possibly.”

“Yes, you can _possibly_. We’ve talked about this, remember?”

“Have we?”

“Yes, about not being able to accept help from anyone or be vulnerable for a second.”

His surprise matches her own at her unguarded words. How they should circle back to that night when a life was saved and she acknowledged the beginning of…all the emotion that is pressing in on her at this moment.

“Then I’ll say _thank you_ , Elizabeth.”

“You’re welcome.”

Her phone buzzes in her pocket, catching her attention and she glances at the screen. Their time is up and she offers him a shrug tinged with disappointment.

“It’s Aram.”

“You should go. I hear it might rain so you’ll want to be careful.”

He’s definitely teasing her and she is definitely in danger of whiling away the morning with a criminal.

“Seems a lovely day to me,” she replies as the torrent only increases. “Drink that. It’s the tea you like.”

“I will.”

She has the urge to move forward.

And she does.

But only a step.

Only a momentary distraction until she comes back to herself. With a sigh, she opens the umbrella he had given her only days before, and walks in the direction of her car. The wind and rain whipping round is disorienting and she feels she could be swept along, quite beyond her control, if not for a certain anchor point. There’s a muttered oath from a passerby when she suddenly stops and turns. He’s watching her, of course, almost waiting for it. Or simply hoping. Whatever it is that crosses his face, makes the rain dripping down her back well worth it.

When he raises the mug in a little toast to her, she feels quite warm again, steadier than before, and she sets off into the storm, her smile still there all the way to the Post Office.

* * *

“Why didn’t you ask her to stay?”

“She would have said _no_.”

“You cannot know her answer without ever asking the question.”

Dembe doesn’t look up from whatever he is stitching and Raymond spends a minute or two watching the intricate workings of the needle. He shifts uncomfortably in the booth and wishes the small bistro offered something stronger than the coffee he’s sipping.

“It is too late now so why don’t we order.”

“It is not too late.”

“Dembe, I imagine the corn bisque is much more palatable than philosophy.”

“I meant, it is not too late today. Elizabeth is still at the entrance, waiting for a break in the storm, I believe.”

He whips around in time with Dembe’s soft laughter, but it doesn’t matter. She’s there, just beyond the door, checking her phone and pulling up the collar of her raincoat.

“Sometimes fate offers you a second chance.”

“It would seem so.”

He wastes no time, stopping only to make a small request of the hostess. She is still there under the eve of the building when he exits the restaurant a few minutes later.

“Elizabeth, have you decided to stay and enjoy the weather?”

The weather that is currently pummeling them with a stinging spray of very chilly rain. “I expected my Uber, but it’s delayed because of all this.”

“I didn’t realize you hadn’t driven here.”

“I was with Aram when we made the arrest and he dropped me off.”

“Ah, I see.” He hands her a small bag and proceeds to put his hands in his pockets once she has taken it.

“What’s this?”

“Pie.”

“Pie?”

“Apple pie for you and humble pie for me. I believe that’s fair.”

She laughs then, really laughs, and relaxes back against the building. He also notices that she has put her phone away and hopes like hell that Uber transport never shows up.

“Now do you see why I don’t show all my cards at the beginning of the hand?”

“Just because things didn’t go the way you said they would, has nothing to do with keeping me informed. Besides, it does you good not to always get your way.”

He can see no benefit in that at all, but considering they captured the blacklister, regardless of how he planned, and considering where they are at this moment, he can’t complain in the least.

“I’m surprised at you.”

“Oh really? And why is that?”

“An opportunity to discuss how I was so thoroughly outmaneuvered and you don’t take it?”

“Well, I…”

She appears confused for a moment as her words fade away and he sees her glance over his shoulder, back toward the warmth of the restaurant.

“Would you care to stay for lunch, Lizzy?”

“What did you say?”

The way her eyes return to his, the intensity of her gaze, and there is the unmistakable sensation of being pulled into the current. He is momentarily disconcerted and wishes he’d ignored Dembe’s advice and this second chance that now seems foolishly impulsive. Something he prides himself on never being, yet here he is.

“You called me _Lizzy_ ,” she finally continues.

And it all clicks into place.

Unexpectedly so.

As everything has been with this case. Or really, everything from that first day in the Post Office. Most pleasantly unexpected.

“It’s not the first time,” he murmurs, keeping his hands firmly in his pockets, resisting the urge to fidget.

“But it’s been a long time.”

“Has it?”

He watches as she retrieves her phone. After a few seconds of typing, it is returned and she looks up, giving him a dazzling smile.

“Okay.”

“What?” he asks, more than a little dazzled.

“Yes, Raymond, I will stay for lunch.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, which is helpful since he seriously doubts he could formulate one, and instead walks past him back into the restaurant. They return to the booth where they had spent a few minutes talking about the close of the case, only now she makes a point to remove her coat and tuck the umbrella away. He doesn’t miss the way her eyes roam the small establishment looking for Dembe who has mysteriously vanished or her amusement at finding themselves suddenly alone.

“I’m glad it rained today,” she remarks quietly after they are seated.

“I hope it rains everyday.”

He’ll always remember it.

Her smile and the briefest of glances, like a secret held between them, before she disappears behind the menu.

* * *

“Did you plan this?”

“A hurricane? Yes, Lizzy, I planned this,” he grumbles, taking off his fedora to give it a thump to dislodge any remaining raindrops, before donning it to ward off the chill. “That damn Al Roker said there was only a ninety percent chance of rain.”

They’ve made it to the gazebo just as the sky opened up and she brushes the water from her sleeves. “So you took a chance on the ten percent and decided we should meet in the park?”

“We’re bound to happen across a clear day at some point.”

“That will be tomorrow,” she replies with a soft laugh and roll of her eyes. “According to Al, we’re in for a long stretch of crisp fall days. All rain-free.”

“But that is tomorrow.”

“And today there’s the list.”

A trace of disappointment enters her voice or perhaps just weariness that sometimes arises when the cases come one after the other, leaving them spinning in circles. She sets off walking the perimeter, suddenly needing an outlet for her nervous energy.

“Not today.”

His words are so quiet, they are almost lost to the wind and rain, causing her to stop momentarily on the opposite side. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t call you because I have a blacklister.”

There’s a devilish smile playing at the corners of his mouth and she closes the circle, arriving back at his side. “Why did you bring me here, Raymond?’

“The day was too beautiful not to share.”

She lets that sink in a moment, feeling a little flushed, before moving her hand in an arc. “But why did you bring me _here_?”

His eyes travel up and around before returning to meet her questioning gaze. “You led the way.”

“Did I?”

He can almost trace her thoughts as she replays it in her mind. The soggy park bench and a few minutes of reprieve before the first drops fell. He was pointing to the coffee shop across the street, but she was drawn in another direction and, taking his hand, she went toward the gazebo.

Her eyes refocus when he brushes the hair from her face as he waits for her to lead the way once more. ”We should have come back sooner.”

“Things happen in their time, Lizzy.”

It must be true. They could never have felt then what they do now. It is the time that has passed and all it has wrought that pulled them back to this place. Where they were once caught in a storm and all that mattered was her hand in his.

_You can trust me._

Until they were torn apart.

Yet they have endured.

“What things?” As she takes hold of his coat to steady her as she falls.

“Many things.” As he frames her face with his hands, sinking into the emotion that is mirrored in her expression.

She will always say she kissed him first, while he swears it was the other way round, and the argument will end in a draw.

Or another kiss.

Sometimes the wind is there to whip around them, or the mist to shield them from view, and they’ll catch in their eyes the memory of that rainy DC fall. Sometimes the world slows, held in a breath of anticipation like this first day, until everything blurs.

“Your fedora,” she murmurs against his lips, realizing it has fallen, but not wanting to unlink her arms from around his neck.

“It’s fine.”

“We should also have done this sooner,” she states, arching a brow at him, and smiles when his hand moves across her back.

‘We’re here now, Lizzy, and we couldn’t have chosen a lovelier day.”

Rising up on tiptoe, she peers over his shoulder toward the hazy outlines of the buildings across the street. “One that is growing colder by the moment. Did Al say anything about sleet because…”

They both turn their heads up to the faint but unmistakable staccato of freezing rain on the roof that, until a minute ago, they had been too preoccupied to notice. “He most certainly did not. Honestly, you can’t trust anyone these days.”

“I trust you, Raymond.”

She’s looking at him, still held close in his arms, but he determinedly keeps his face directed upward, at the shift in tone, as the memories stir. If she closed her eyes, it wouldn’t be difficult to imagine the wind and rain were really the sounds of the waves as the tanker cut across the Atlantic. The roof overhead would vanish revealing the starry night he pointed to when he looked to the heavens and she to him. When he could not meet her gaze until his barriers were firmly in place.

How many times she has thought of that night, that particular star, and wondered at the mystery held in his expression. The answer she was certain was there if only she trusted enough. How many times she has wanted to return to that ship and set them on another path, not knowing it would be the park they would find again. Where she chose to believe the lie that almost destroyed her.

And now there is only one possible truth.

“I also love you.”

He’s a little shell-shocked and more than a little speechless. She could say the same for herself, having spoken the words the second she acknowledged them. Now she can't imagine it any other way as she waits a moment for him to finally look at her, needing to read the certainty of it in her eyes.

She relaxes her arms, letting a hand rest against his cheek before saying the next thing that pops into her thoughts. “Raymond, considering the turn of events today, would you care to have dinner with me?”

“That sounds delightful," he replies, still a bit dazed.

“I think so too.”

He retrieves the fedora at their feet and once it is back in place, links a hand through her arm. “I hope you drove because Dembe dropped me off. Or should we call an Uber transport?”

“I drove,” she says, laughing softly. “Come on, you can share my umbrella.”

There’s a moment’s confusion as he looks around before she pulls a small compact umbrella from the pocket of her raincoat.

“What is that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Where is the one I gave you?”

“Uh…”

“Don’t tell me you returned it.”

“Well, it seemed wrong to keep it.” She states with a shrug, ignoring his grin. “Here you go.”

She gives it a toss and once he opens it, they huddle underneath before descending the stairs to the sidewalk. The umbrella isn’t much protection against the icy rain hitting them, and he’s on the verge of suggesting takeout at her apartment or his safehouse since they’re likely to be drenched rather quickly, when she stops suddenly, looking back.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I…”

“Lizzy?”

She can’t seem to explain the need to fix it in her mind. How different it is from the first time they were here. The heat of that day with the sun bright and piercing as her life fell apart. Yet here is something new. It will be to this cold and very stormy afternoon where their thoughts will return time and again when they are reminded of second chances.

Somehow he understands as his gaze follows hers, realizing there is nowhere else he can imagine telling her. “I should mention that I love you as well.”

Words she knew would come in their time and she turns to look at him, their smiles a relief as they let go of the memory of what followed that long ago day. He draws her to his side and they continue on, not at all what they were then.

Now that they have chosen a different ending.

**Author's Note:**

> Another favorite pair once immortalized this standard in a movie and it happened to be a gazebo where they found shelter so I have to thank Fred and Ginger for the ending. 
> 
> Shout out to Al Roker who I’d trust with my life as well as the DC weather forecast.


End file.
